Fergus slipped out of the house, the bag containing Cullen’s bones slung casually over his shoulder. He moved with the nonchalance of a seasoned thief with his senses heightened by the adrenaline of his secret mission.
He couldn’t risk being caught with the bag. If he was caught, his entire mission would be jeopardized.
As he ventured deeper into the pack’s territory, the devastation wrought by the recent attack became painfully evident. Burnt houses, like skeletal remains, stood as grim testaments to the battle. Haggard-looking people toiled amidst the wreckage, salvaging what little they could.
Homeless families huddled together with their faces etched with despair. A dark satisfaction bloomed in Fergus’ chest. The havoc unleashed by his kind was a prelude to the ultimate victory which filled him with a morbid sense of pleasure.
There was nothing as sweet as sniffing despair in the air. It was intoxicating, strong, and delicious.
Suddenly, two approaching figures caught his eyes – Isleen and Lupe closing in with their faces looking like they had seen better days. Fergus ducked behind a crumbling wall, his eyes on them fixated as he didn’t want to get spotted.
He waited until they were safely past before continuing his journey towards the woods. No matter if he had taken the form of a werewolf, he would remain a silent predator blending into the shadows.
The moment he stepped beneath the dense woods, a clamor of wolf scents assaulted his nostrils. Unease prickled his skin. What was going on? Why were so many werewolves gathered in this secluded area?
Trusting his instincts, Fergus pushed himself further, relying on his vampiric speed to weave through the undergrowth. He was no longer concerned with hiding, he needed to understand.
His superhuman vision allowed him to see what a normal eye wouldn’t. He hid away from view and watched. Packs of wolf soldiers, clad in leather armor and bearing a grim determination, patrolled the woods.
Why the hell were there so many of them here? Did they have a particular target in the woods? Fergus couldn’t help but fear for any vampire that was remaining in the pack and lurking around the woods for they would be found and killed by the werewolf soldiers.
He didn’t want to get caught in the crossfire of whatever conflict was brewing. He needed to get out, and fast.
Finally, he reached a secluded clearing farther into the depths of the woods than the wolves could imagine. Here, he dug a shallow grave in the soft earth with his bare fingers. All thanks to his extraordinary speed. And a big kudos to the tension and fear of getting caught.
When he was satisfied that he had dug enough hole, with a shove, the sack tumbled into the hole as he threw it down, the bones clattering ominously against the soil. He quickly filled the grave and erased all traces of his deed.
With a burst of speed, Fergus bolted out of the woods, weaving through trees with an agility that defied nature. He defied nature.
He was Fergus. None of the wolves were a match for him. Not even Rhett whose name had been written in the halls of prophecy.
Reaching the outskirts, he came face-to-face with a lone male wolf, who seemed extremely gratified to see him.
"Oh, Cullen!l growled the wolf, blocking his path. "What are you doing here? I’ve been waiting for you at our usual spot."
Their usual spot? Fergus glanced at the man and gave him a one-over. He was wearing very skinny jeans which only told Fergus one thing– just like Cullen, this man was also gay.
And right now, he was Cullen which meant he was also gay. Whatever business Cullen and he might be playing behind closed doors, Fergus didn’t care.
"Perfectly alright," Fergus lied, his voice strained.
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